A Neverending Story
by B4U
Summary: [Chapter 9 up] A backwards version of the mediator: Suze is the 18th century ghost haunting Jesse, who just moved into the house that she has been occupying for 150 years.
1. Departures and Strange Encounters

_Hello everyone…this fic is kind of switching what Suze's and Jesse's lives would be (what time period they're from), but not their personalities. So don't expect that what happens to Suze will happen in exactly the same way to Jesse. Enjoy!_ :)

A Neverending Story

Chapter One-Departures and Strange Encounters

I smoothed down the skirt to my lilac colored dress, not too happy about the prospect of leaving for a journey so early in the morning. Adjusting my already-too-tight corset, I let out a sigh of discomfort. Why must women wear these unbearably painful things, only so their waists would be a size smaller? Personally, I don't understand it, but since it is expected of me, I have no choice but to obey to conformity of society.

I heard my mother calling from the bottom of the stairs, threatening that the carriage would leave without me if I didn't get down there fast. I thought this was quite comical, given that the fact that the whole reason I was going on the journey to the Diego's was for my advantage—or rather, my family's—and it would be rather hard for it to leave if I wasn't even there. _I _had no desire to marry Felix Diego, but I was going along on this trip to "at least meet him," as my mother put it so delicately. I had promised my mother that I would give him a chance, see what he was like, but already my mind was made up. I would not marry for money, as I had expressed to my mother, only for love. But, not wanting to miss out on a chance to get away from my home for a few days, I kept my tongue to myself. I took one last glance in the mirror, which reflected my naturally wavy hair framing my emerald eyes in ringlets, and stepped down the stairs one at a time.

"Susie, it's about time you made your way down here. Now eat some breakfast and you can depart soon enough," my mother told me. '_Depart soon enough?' _I wondered, '_What happened to the 'the carriage is leaving if you don't get down here right now?' _I let the thought pass and settled down at my seat at the table, only to see my three stepbrothers eating as fast as they could. Honestly, do they have no manners? They always eat as though it's going to be their last meal.

Watching them eat made me slowly lose my appetite. I admitted to myself that my sudden appetite loss had just as much to do with meeting Felix Diego as it did with my stepbrothers eating habits. _Not that I actually care what he thinks, _I thought bitterly. I wasn't sure _why_ I was so anxious, but I was nervous nonetheless.

Finally, giving up on my desperate attempt to down some of the porridge which was my breakfast, I fastened my bonnet and leisurely strolled out to the wooden carriage drawn by horses. The air was cool and crisp and the sky clear and blue, a perfect day for travel. I slowly turned around to glance at my tall, prominent house and turned back towards the carriage. My step father, Andy, gave me an elbow up and I settled down into one of the cushiony seats, only to find my self facing an unexpected visitor.

Andy, seeing my obvious state of disarray, asked politely, "Everything all right, Suze?" I swallowed the lump in my throat and, replacing the grim expression of disgust on my face, smiled.

"Fine, Andy, thank you. Good-bye, then!" I hastily dismissed him and he seemed confused, but shut the carriage door nevertheless. Turning back to the unanticipated guest now staring at me inquisitively, I scowled.

I lowered my voice to a mere whisper before demanding, "What do you want?"

The woman, who was obviously much older than I, didn't bother lowering her voice. She didn't need to, since I was the only who could hear her. The woman remained unnoticed by Andy simply because, unlike Andy, who was alive, this woman was...well...dead.

_I know it's not that long, but I don't know how much people are going to like it, so I'll wait and see. Nothing really too important happend in this chapter, but they'll be longer chapters with more action later!_

_Please review, I'm begging all of you!.Its ok if its critism, but i just want some feedback! Thanks._


	2. Bye, bye, Suzie!

A Neverending Story

Chapter Two-Bye Bye, Suzie!

"What do you want?" I demanded to know. I asked this rather rudely, but I was on my way to meet, and possibly marry, someone that I was pretty sure I hated. Cut me some slack, okay?

The woman, unfortunately, did not to hear the annoyance in my voice. Either that or she chose to ignore it.

"_I _do not want anything," the dead woman replied, sounding amused, "It's _you _I'm trying to offer advice to."

Well, I must say, this was a new one. A ghost telling _me _that _I _was the one being helped, I mean. Usually I was the one who offered guidance and consolation…and, if necessary, a little push along, sometimes consisting of using my fist. Yes, I know, you must be thinking, 'What an improper thing for a _lady_ to be doing!' but it was my job. Maybe I should explain.

I was what was called a mediator, who could see, talk to, and even touch ghosts. It had been this way for as long as I can remember, and as far as I'm concerned, it's not much of a benefit. Ghosts are constantly appearing out of nowhere at the most inconvenient times, like when I happen to be at Mass or in a conversation with my family members. I'm then forced to make up some excuse to leave to go talk to the ghost in aide. If the ghost is one that doesn't want to be helped, who perhaps is a little more stubborn than I was willing to handle, then it would often end up in a fight or me getting into some sort of awkward, sticky situation.

Like I said: my life wasn't exactly a picnic.

So, right then, staring at this ghost of the elderly woman, you can see why I dimly wanted to laugh right into her gloomy, yet firm, face. Ghosts rarely even wanted my help, and suddenly, one wanted to help me? All of a sudden curious, I looked back up at her.

"What…what kind of advice?" I asked testily.

"Don't go to see Felix Diego. I'm telling you, he's a bad man with…intentions." Her face, which seemed to be completely serious, looked pleading. But I wasn't about to give into her just yet.

"Like what?" I asked. Personally, I didn't want to meet Felix Diego in the first place, but I was doing it for my mother. Or so I told myself. Because of being a mediator, I had always felt like something of a disappointment to her. While the other girls were sewing or being taught the edicate or table manners, I was off battling ghosts. My mother didn't know anything of my unusual 'gift', and I planned to just keep her in the dark about it. Going to meet, and possibly marry, Felix Diego, I hoped to make up to her the dissatisfaction of having a daughter such as me.

The woman opened her mouth to explain more fully to me what she thought, or knew, but was interrupted by sudden light streaming into the carriage. The door was held open by the driver, and he was looking at me questioningly. I tried to look innocent, as though I hadn't been talking to a ghost just a minute before about the dangers of Felix Diego.

The driver, brushing aside his confusion, informed me, "Ma'am, we'll be departing soon. Do you have everything you need?"

I nodded with vigor, and looked back at the woman as soon as the driver had shut the door once again. It was no use. She was gone.

Sighing in frustration, I looked back out the window. This was the problem with ghosts. Just when you think they're going to tell you something important, they dematerialize on you. That's the thanks I get for being a liaison between living and dead, and the only mediator around for miles. At least that I know of.

Outside, my mother waved goodbye to me, and I did the same back to her. Despite my less than normal habits of getting in trouble so frequently, I knew that my mother still loved me. It was apparent that she did, judging by the fact that she looked heartbroken to be saying goodbye to me for what was to be a long time away from home.

Yes…this was the first time away from home on my own, but I was sure I would be able to manage it. As it was custom, I had to arrive alone at my future husband's home, and he would then see if I was fit to marry. He had sent for me in his own horse and carriage, and judging by the interior of it, he was not short on money, by any means.

The seats were upholstered in what looked like some sort of red velvet, the same material of the curtains, which were swept back from the window. There was a piece of cloth that hung loosely between my compartment and where the driver sat, and the whole place smelled sharply of orange blossoms. My own family was well off, but clearly did not have the same extent of wealth that the Diegos did, so I was unaccustomed to the luxury of it all. _Well, I guess that would be one perk to being married to Felix Diego—I would never really have to work hard for anything in my life, _I thought bitterly.

Tired of looking around, I slowly lowered my head and pressed it against the cool glass of the window. I sat this way for many moments before I dozed off, breathing lightly and forgetting all my worries and anxious thoughts over seeing my future husband.

I awoke some time after sunset, suppressing a yawn of drowsiness. Were we here so early? I had thought it would take at least until tomorrow morning, given that we stopped only a few times on the way.

_No,_ I thought, _something isn't right. _The stillness around me was unsettling, save for the calls of a few birds in the distance.

Abruptly, the carriage lurched forward. I sat up suddenly, my heart beating wildly and my pulse quickening drastically. Looking out the window, I was startled by what I saw.

The carriage seemed to be leaning forward, gradually slipping towards the rocks below. The sea churned and crashed against the rugged rocks more than 50 feet below. The carriage teetered dangerously close to the edge.

"HELP!" I screeched, when the reality of the situation had finally sunk in. I whipped back the curtain which separated me from the driver, only to find an empty bench where he should have been sitting. I called out once again, but soon gave up my desperate attempt to be heard. Instead, I jerked open the door and tumbled out, landing painfully on my arm with a nauseating_ crack. _My arm collapsed as pain shot up it, throbbing in agony. I knew that I was lucky to have broken only my arm, though, because it, at least, had a chance to heal.

I spoke too soon.

"And now," a voice boomed ominously from somewhere to my left, "you die."

I opened my eyes, which I had shut immediately after experiencing the white hot pain of my broken bone. I clutched my arm to me, staring over to where the voice had come from. Shocked, I gaped at the figure standing there.

Felix Diego stood there, gazing down at me with an expression of intense dislike. I knew his face from portraits I had seen of him, but in person, he was more malicious and evil that I ever would have imagined. I guess that that also had something to do with the fact that he was trying to kill me.

"But…why?" I asked plainly, ignoring the shooting pains in my arm.

"Because, my dear, I am engaged to you. Yet, you are not the one I am going to marry. Instead, my wife shall be the beautiful Maria, and you stand in the way of me and her," he answered simply.

My eyes widened. It was one thing to break off our engagement, but to try to _kill _me? That was something different entirely. I voiced my thoughts, but he just laughed coldly, an evil laugh that sent shivers down my spine.

"Why not just break off the engagement, you ask? Well, the answer is simple enough. It's just so much easier this way," he said.

I stared at him, openmouthed, while thoughts raced through my mind, blurring my vision and clouding my brain. _This guy is crazy. That's it. Why else would be trying to kill_ me_ just so he could marry his precious Maria? _

"And now…I'm sorry to have to say, its time to go. Too bad we didn't get to know each other all that well," he said, sounding just the opposite of sorry—more like he was satisfied that his evil, sick plan was working out.

Diego shoved me hard, square in the center of my chest. I felt myself falling, cascading down the sheer cliff that just seconds ago I had been anchored to. I reached out; trying to hold onto something, anything, but my hand grasped nothing but air. Diego stood, silhouetted against the dim light of the sunset. His cruel form, shaking uncontrollably from laughter, grew smaller with each passing moment. The fall felt like an eternity.

I heard a huge crack, probably the splintering of broken bone, as I landed. I heard it, yet I felt nothing. _That's odd, _I mused. You'd think that falling fifty feet off of a sheer cliff would've had some pain involved, but apparently I was beyond pain. I was…well, I didn't know exactly _what _I was at the moment.

Cautiously, I tried to sit up, and bizarrely, I did so without much difficulty. I looked up at the cliff where I had fallen from and noticed that Felix Diego no longer occupied the threatening overhang. Then, I looked down at myself, checking for broken bones.

It was then that I realized that I was glowing. And, lying beside me in the shallow water was a mangled, just-fallen-from-a-50-foot-high-cliff-version of me. Dazedly, I remembered the old lady's warning I had ignored just hours before. Felix Diego wasn't just a man with bad intentions, as she had described him to be…no, he was a crazy, deceiving beast who had just stolen the thing most dear to me...my life.

_Hey. Sorry that this chapter is a little gory, but eh...it just came out on paper that way, I guess. I promise I won't beat up Suze so much in the future :)_

_Also, I know that Jesse wasn't a mediator, so if Suze had his life, she wouldn't be one either. I just made her one because I felt like it was kind of important to how she can be cynical and maybe a little violent. Well, just please review!_


	3. Meet Mr De Silva

_Thanks for the reviews! I promise the story will get more interesting. Ok, so here's chapter three..._

A Neverending Story

Chapter Three-Meet Mr. De Silva

Let me tell you one thing I've learned about eternal long life: it's not all its cracked up to be. And, of course, I had to learn this ever so important lesson by experiencing it myself.

You'd think that since I was a mediator, I would have accepted being dead more easily than others, since I've dealt with more dead than you can imagine. You'd think that I would have handled my bad fortune with more dignity than some of the others, right?

Wrong.

For what seemed like ages I sat there, miserably gazing at my mangled body until high tide came and washed its remains away. I was oddly calm for someone who had just been murdered less than a few hours ago.

I thought about nothing while perched on a rock towering above the sea. It was amazing how I could just loose myself in those vast pools of water, not needing to think or, for that matter, even breathe, since I was no longer living. I felt as though someone had just punched an off button to my senses, muting out my thoughts that were threatening to come tumbling back to life at any second.

Eventually I came to my senses. I made the long journey back to my house on foot (because really, how else was I supposed to do it? I was a ghost, after all!). When I entered my house, I saw my mother sitting on the couch, crying hysterically. My eyes burned as I held back the salty tears I had kept pent up for so long. I cried out in grief, only to find that no one could hear me, even if I screamed at the top of my lungs. Of course no one could hear me…I was dead

I WAS DEAD!

How could Diego do such a terrible thing? Did he even realize how much pain that I would have to withstand, how much pain my _mother _would have to endure? It wasn't fair for someone to inflict that kind of harm by just the simple action of a push. Well, it was off a cliff, no less, but you get the idea.

Andy, my step-dad, tried to comfort my ailing mother. My stepbrothers, who I thought didn't have a drop of emotion in them, had their faces downcast, eyes filled with sorrow. David, or Doc, as I called him, was sobbing, his tear streaked face screwed up in hurt. Finally, I could take no more. I took a step backwards, stumbling over a stiff, wooden chair, and felt for the door handle, only to feel my hand pass through it easily. Frustrated, I gave up and staggered through the door, hugging my arms to myself protectively.

Thirty years. Thirty years had gone by since I had last set eyes on my family, on my mother. I expected that they had grown a lot since then, but I was unchanged by the years, forever remaining in my sixteen-year-old body. I had accepted the fact that I was dead, and I had grown to use my powers to my benefit. Now, I could materialize, dematerialize, and move things telekinetically (a/n: not sure if that's the right word, but deal with it ). Mostly, I sat on the beach, watching people come and go occasionally and gazing at the vast ocean. Other times I observed my old friends and the places I had been to, but I never did I dare to see my family. But now, thirty years after my death, and I was ready.

However, I wasn't ready for Andy to be gone, to have passed on. And I certainly wasn't ready for my mother to go, either.

I materialized at the house right at noon, when I expected my family to be together and eating supper. Andy had always made a big deal over meal times, so I thought that maybe things hadn't changed since then.

But they had.

I noticed something weird right when I first arrived. The house had been painted white, different from the natural wooden shade it had been when I lived there. The stable, where our horses were bred, no longer existed. Instead, a driveway littered with pebbles of gravel filled its vacancy, and two carriages were parked in it. Curious I wandered into the house.

I broke into a smile at seeing my family gathered around the large table in the center of the room, saying grace over the food about to be received. The smile quickly turned to bewilderment as I saw not just one, but two unrecognizable faces looking down at their platters of food. As I drew closer, I hurriedly skimmed over all of the faces and when I could not find one familiar face, the smile completely melted off my face like butter.

Now I was just angry.

Who were these people and what were they doing in _my _house? Okay, so maybe it wasn't my house any longer, since I had been a ghost for the past thirty years, but it was still my family's house. What were a bunch of strangers doing around the table I had eaten at, chatting like they had not a care in the world?

An answer came to me later that night as I sat on the window seat in my room, looking up at the stars which clustered the inky black sky. The window seat was also a new installment, as was the unknown bed, chairs, and dressing table. The whole room had been remodeled, much to my dismay, but I was more upset over the fact that it had been changed it all than the actual changes that had been made. I had never been a big fan of the pink frills that had decorated my room previously, but I was never going to admit that I liked the new decorations better.

Anyway, while sitting there, I heard a rustle behind me and spun around to face a girl a little younger than me staring directly at me. I was surprised, although I shouldn't have been. She was a mediator, like me, and I hadn't met one for all of my many years of life...er, afterlife. I had always suspected that there were more of us out there, but I was happy to finally get to meet one.

"Hello there, little girl. What's your name?" I asked in my sweetest voice. I was shocked at how rusty it sounded from disuse.

Her expression was sour, "You used to live here, right?" she said. I was taken aback. How would she know this? I voiced this question.

"Well, my momma told me about a girl who was murdered and used to live here, so I thought it might be you. That's what you looked so shocked this afternoon at dinner, right? Because you didn't know that this house was now a boardinghouse?" I was impressed that she could figure all this out, even at such a young age.

"Oh…" I replied half heartedly, "So that's why they aren't here. My family, I mean. Since this is a boardinghouse, right?" The young girl nodded.

"So where are they?" I asked. I was itching to know, I needed to know the answer. I wasn't sure I was prepared for it, though.

The girl's expression of indifference suddenly softened, looking sad. "They're…they, um, passed away. In a fire," she said in a small voice.

Tears sprang to my eyes before I could stop them. Death, I could handle. Loss, I could handle. But did their lives have to end so terribly? Did they have to die like I did, in pain?

I looked back up at the girl after I had been staring so intently at the stitching in my dress, but not seeing it. To my dismay, she had gone. Sighing, I turned back to the window. _It will be another thirty years of nothingness, then?_ I thought miserably. Being stuck in a limbo between life and the afterlife was no joke. I suddenly felt a wave of compassion for all of those ghosts who I had dealt with so impatiently.

Things continued much the same for the next hundred and twenty years, passing slowly but surely. It wasn't as boring as I had thought it to be originally, but it was still no party. I enjoyed watching the guests arrive and depart, watching the world develop so fast and in so many ways. I couldn't keep up with all the new inventions and ideas that had arisen over time; there were too many changes to keep track of. Sometimes I toyed with the guests that I disliked or thought amusing by haunting them if they stayed in my old room. Oh, it didn't inflict any permanent damage on them, but they often left hastily and never came back. In a world where time was endless, I had to find certain things to keep me amused.

Reading became an essential part of my life, as well. I had never enjoyed it in my lifetime, but as a ghost I simply couldn't get enough of the knowledge that came from books. What I enjoyed most were novels, though; I read through roughly one a day, or whenever I could get my hands on one. A lot of guests kept them lying around, but then were confused to where they had gone when they turned up in various parts of the house, of course moved by me.

Little by little, business in the boardinghouse died down, and the countryside around it developed into a small town. It eventually became run down and disheveled, but I continued to sit in that window seat and gaze out into the ocean. I had the best view in all of Carmel from the window!

Around 150 years after my death, a new family moved in. They were the first since the house had been a boardinghouse, so they made a big project of repairing all of the rooms into superb conditions. They were by far the most interesting yet; with a mother, father and five sisters! They were constantly arguing over who stole whose clothes, petty issues like that, and I found it all quite amusing. I thought it had been hard to live with three brothers, but maybe sisters could be even more exasperating!

The house was huge, so there were enough rooms for each of the girls. Luckily, no one chose my old room, and I was glad for that. When the house had been a boardinghouse, people occasionally stayed there, and I had found it amusing. But for someone to live there all the time? That would just be irritating. I would be constantly interrupted from my thoughts, or novels, or whatever else I chose to occupy myself with. Yes, it was a good thing that no one had chosen my room.

They all talked of their brother in high regards, so I wondered why he wasn't here in the house with them. Maybe he had been scared of all the femininity and chosen to live in his old house…but I seriously doubted that. No, they all said that he was coming soon, but I never knew when, and didn't think much of it.

Until he walked into the room…_my _room…with his mother. She was asking him if he liked the decor, and he was smiling and nodding his head politely. I didn't see his face, but he looked to be a little older than me, maybe around 18 (a/n: sorry, but he had to be young enough to still be going to school). Then, the realization hit me. She was asking him how he liked _his _room? _He _was going to be living here? But it was my room! No one but _me_ could live here! I was enraged.

His mother finally left the room when he turned to me, staring at me cynically. I looked behind me, but no one was there. Yes, it was me he was staring at! But, then that would mean…

When I got a good look at his face, my heart just about stopped. I hadn't noticed it before, but he was amazingly handsome, with clean cut features that were perfect in every way. Dark, crisp hair curled around the nape of his neck and fell lightly into his eyes. Oh, his eyes. So dark, so inky black and swimming in knowledge that I felt like I was falling into them. Just gazing into them made me feel like I was trapped inside of them, but I wasn't searching for a way out. If this was being trapped, then I'd like to be like this forever…

"Hello," he said. His low voice reverberated through my spine, making my whole body tingle. I looked away from his eyes sharply, and then remembered what I was doing. He was in my room! He had no right to be here. Sure, he was amazingly handsome, but he could be dangerous, he could be evil and twisted for all I knew. After all, he was a mediator.

"Hello, to you too, cowboy, and now, if you wouldn't mind, get the hell out of my room," I replied. Hey, it might not have been the most polite thing to say, but I was in the 21st century now. Things were different, I imagined, and I could say whatever I wanted to now.

He looked taken aback, but quickly recovered, "Jesse," he said.

"Jesse, what?" I snapped back.

"You called me 'cowboy'. You might want to know that my name is Jesse."

_Sound familiar?_

_Finally, Jesse is in the story...sorry it took so long. Well. Pleeease review with any questions, comments or uh...suggestions, maybe? Thanks again :)_


	4. Ghostly Gettogethers

A Neverending Story

Chapter Four-Ghostly Get-togethers

I just looked at him.

"So?" I said infrustration. He just leaned against the bedpost, wearing a somewhat amused expression.

"If I didn't know any better, _senorita, _I'd say that this room is no longer yours. I'd say that _my _family now lives here," Jesse said with a smile playing on his lips, "And besides. Do you think _I _want to share my room either?"

I was hurt. He was laughing at me! Well, I wasn't one to just stand back and watch as some Spanish rancher mocked me. _Two can play this game, _I thought. I stood up from my place on the window seat and took three, intimidating (or what I hoped to be at least) steps toward him.

I pointed an accusing finger at him and said in a menacing whisper, "Your _family _is welcome to be living here, but not in _my _room.Now, I think that you should get out before I do something that I know I'll regret." Hey, they weren't exactly warm, welcoming words, but just because I was a ghost didn't mean I was going to put up with him sharing my room. I hadn't been a delicate little flower in my lifetime, and I certainly wasn't going to behave like one in my afterlife.

My threatening words didn't have the desired effect on him, to say the least. His amused expression didn't falter; instead he took a step towards me so that we were practically standing nose to nose. It was incredibly unnerving how tall he was, but I didn't let that frighten me. Or at least, I didn't let my worried expression show on my face.

I gazed into the dark pools that were his eyes and momentarily forgot that I was supposed to be upset with him. He was near enough that I could feel his breath on me, breath that I hadn't had for 150 years. Our gazes remained locked until a realized what I was doing. I promptly dematerialized.

I rematerialized on the beach, still stunned. What had happened back there? I mentally scolded myself for not telling him off more thoroughly. What had I been doing, staring at him like that? I should've kicked him out of my room and straight back to where he had come from. But…his face! I couldn't take my eyes off him. When I looked at him, I got too distracted to even think about the problem at hand. I got too distracted to think about _anything _other than his entrancing features. _Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to share my room with him after all, _I thought, and immediately pushed the thought out of my mind. My thoughts were too shaken up to think straight, so I just decided to ignore the situation at hand.

The next day, I went to see this Jesse fellow once again. Not wanting him to think I _liked _him or anything, I remained hidden. He arrived at the Mission, which had been around when I was alive, and I was surprised that it had since then been transformed into a school. Since he was new, Jesse registered in the front office and met with the principal, Father Dominic. He was in his 60s, but still had a young feel to him. He was tall, almost as tall as Jesse, and had clear blue eyes and white, snowy hair. He seemed normal enough until the two were walking down the hall, discussing school policies.

A girl, probably around the same age as me, was leaning against a locker looking stubborn with her arms crossed and a pout on her lips. She straightened up when she saw Jesse looking at her, as did most girls did when they saw attractive males. Hey, not that I think Jesse is attractive! Well, ok, I'll admit that he was definitely endowed in the looks department. Saying that certainly doesn't mean that I like him.

Anyway, back to the girl. Jesse looked from her to father Dominic with an astonished expression.

"You…you can see her too?" Jesse asked. Father Dominic nodded. I was also surprised. I mean _another _mediator in Carmel, California? I had been around quite a long time, but I had never met another mediator. Granted, I didn't get out all that much, but now the place seemed to be crawling with them.

Jesse and Father Dominic left after talking to the girl ghost for a little while, whose name, I found out, was Heather. I came out from the shadows in which I had been hiding and faced her, my hands folded over my chest.

"Hello," I said, hoping to make conversation.

Startled, she looked up at me. Once she realized that I was a ghost, she glanced over my outfit from the long, flowing lilac skirts to the ringlets in my chestnut colored hair.

"And who are you supposed to be?" she asked, rather rudely. Now, I do not appreciate rudeness in any form, and especially not about my outfit. I knew that fashions had changed since I had been alive, but I didn't need to be constantly reminded of it.

"Who am _I?_ _I _am Susannah Simon, mediator. And who are _you, _and why haven't you moved on?" I said in the same amused voice Jesse had used on me the night before. I had learned that sometimes the most effective way to get people irritated was to be annoyingly polite.

Heather didn't fall for my act, though. She said in the same sickening sweet voice, "The name's Heather. Now if you wouldn't mind, _Susannah_…" she added a mocking emphasis on my name, "I'd appreciate it if you'd get out of my way. I have places to be, and they're certainly not here talking to a dead girl in a hoopskirt."

Now, she had no right to be speaking to me like that, no right at all. I had only been trying to help her move on. Just because I was dead didn't mean I wasn't able to use my mediator abilities.

"Not so fast. If I'm not mistaken, I'm not the only one who's dead here. And I may be dead, but I still am here to help you move on to your next life. So, I ask you again…_what is holding you back?" _I was starting to get really aggravated at this point.

She laughed in my face. "And if _I'm _not mistaken, you haven't moved on either, so why are you so keen on helping me get to the other side?" I just glared at her. Tense silence hung between us.

Finally, she spoke up. "Okay, okay. If you must know, I haven't moved on because I'm not even supposed to be dead! It's all my boyfriend's, Bryce's fault. We were in love! I know he loved me, too. But that bastard broke up with me! I was so upset that I went home and shot myself! But I didn't mean it, I swear. I shouldn't have died; I didn't mean to die. It was all his fault! BRYCE WAS THE ONE WHO KILLED ME!" By this point she was screaming in rage, bitter tears of anger would be able to hear her screams, but I figured that they were too far away to be listening anyway. So it was just me facing Heather; me alone dealing with a hysterical ghost girl.

It was a sad story, I knew, but I also knew that it was the girl's own fault that she was dead. She had killed herself over this boy, and now she had to suffer the consequences. I started to say something, not knowing if it was going to be sympathy or scolding, but Heather had disappeared, leaving me alone in the deserted courtyard. Frustrated, I disappeared as well, back to my room. Or, I should say, Jesse's room. I sat on the window seat, glad that he was still at school.

Around three o'clock, Jesse came home from school, but I promptly disappeared before he had time to see me. I watched him pace around his room, occasionally working on his homework, until he was called down for dinner. I waited patiently on the window seat until he came back several hours later, well past dark. He was dressed all in black, and the color accented his tan skin. In the darkness or the room, he didn't notice me in the shadows of my usual seat.

"Isn't it a little late to be going out?" I asked him. He looked up, startled. He quickly resumed his indifferent expression.

"You never told me your name," was all he said.

"It's Susannah. As in, 'don't you cry for me'," I said automatically, without stopping to think. I wondered, _Why did I just tell him that?_

"A beautiful name. I know the song," he said in that smooth voice of his. I narrowed my eyes at him. He might have been a charmer, but I wasn't about to let him get away without an answer to my first question.

"Where are you going?" I asked again, suspiciously.

"Oh, nowhere. Just down to the Mission to do a little…shall we say 'ghostly' work for Father Dominic," Jesse said.

"You mean to deal with that girl, Heather?" I questioned.

His eyes widened. "How…how do you know about her?"

I realized my mistake too late. _Great, _I thought_, now he thinks I'm stalking to him or something. _I chose to ignore his question.

"I wouldn't go down to see her. I think maybe it would work out better if _I _dealt with her. You know, girl to girl, ghost to ghost?" I suggested.

"No, Susannah. I will deal with her. She's far stronger and more powerful than you realize, and you will end up hurt," he said.

"I'm a ghost, remember?" I said bitterly, "It's not like I can die, or even get permanently hurt." Jesse gave me a look, as if to say, 'just let me handle it, ok?' and turned to go out the door. I stood up and bolted the door in place.

"I said…_let me handle it!_" I said through gritted teeth. The whole 'Heather situation' was just like how he had stolen my bedroom…it wasn't _that_ important, but if it was taken from me, it immediately became significant. Childish, I know, but then again, life got boring when you had nothing to do for 150 years.

However, Jesse ignored my sudden actions and crossed over the window seat. Without a word, he slid open the window and climbed out, all in a matter of seconds. I stood by the door openmouthed. _Well two can play this game, _I thought, my green eyes flashing.

I materialized at the Mission a moment later and found it deserted. It was at least a couple of miles from the house; Jesse wouldn't be here for a little while. I walked noiselessly around the courtyard, trying not to disturb the silence that hung in the air so ominously.

"Looking for someone?" a shrill, female voice sounded from behind me. _Damn, _I thought, _she beat me to it. _

"Actually, I am. Now, believe me when I say I'm not at all happy to be here either, but you need to move on, and I'm going to help you do it. So I'd appreciate it if you just kept your comments to yourself and cooperate," I said. Better to start this all out with a good note. Better to lay out the rules before we start playing the game.

She looked mistrustful. "So…you want to help?"

"That's what I said, did I?"

Surprisingly, a smile washed over her face. "Oh, I knew it was possible! I'm sorry that I was rude before; it's just that those other mediator dudes said that what I wanted couldn't happen." _Good_, I thought_. She should very well be apologizing for being so rude to me before. _Then the other part of her sentence sunk in.

"Wait…what do you mean? What did they say wasn't possible?" I said, starting to panic slightly.

"Oh, you know. Going back to how things were before: me being alive, Bryce being in love with me. You know." No, I didn't know.

"Well, Heather, I'm afraid that they were right. You can't ever go back to how you were before," I said simply. She stared at me, her smile fading quickly.

"But…but you said…" she stuttered, looking at me but not really seeing me.

"Look, I know what I said, and I most certainly didn't say that," I snapped. Oops. Wrong choice of words.

"YOU TOLD ME THAT I COULD GO BACK!" she screamed. The fountain beside us seethed, bubbles erupting and sending the water towards me in steamy waves. I jumped back, alarmed. Though I'm a ghost, I can still get hurt; I just heal a lot faster than people. And trust me; I wasn't exactly looking forward to getting scorched by boiling water.

Using my kinetic power, I sent a wooden bench hurtling in her direction, but she was too far gone in her fury to even notice. The pieces bounced off of her and came back hurtling in my direction. I dodged them, but was knocked to the ground as a particularity sharp, dangerous piece of wood stabbed me in the stomach. I fell onto my knees, gasping, but I didn't see the giant head of a statue come rolling towards me until it was less than a foot away. I looked up from my wound just in time to see the large stone, big enough to crush me, and felt an invisible force knock me out of the way of it just in time.

"Susannah!" a male voice shouted. Jesse? What was he doing here?

"I thought I told you I could handle this!" I said.

"And this is you handling it?" he replied. Well, he had me on that one. He looked down to my stomach, which the piece of wood still stuck out of. His eyes widened.

"You're hurt. Are you alright?" he asked in concern.

"Does it look like I'm alright? Oh well, I'll survive. But right now Heather is destroying the whole courtyard! Go stop her!" I pleaded. He took one last look at me and ran over to where Heather was thrashing around, tearing up the place. I looked down where the wood, like a dagger, was staked through me. It went through me in the front and came out my back, straight through. Blood gushed from the wound, pouring down in rivers and staining my dress a nasty brown color. Now, I wasn't one to be squeamish over blood, even my own blood. But seeing a stake through my stomach and blood gushing out in waterfalls was a little much for a Monday afternoon, you know? So it's no wonder that I took one last look at my stomach, blacked out, and fainted.

Well we all learned something today, huh? Now I know that ghosts can most certainly pass out.

_Well, how did you like it? By the way, thanks for the reviews! (That was the cue to go review some more). Ciao._


	5. A Temporary Truce

A Neverending Story

Chapter Five-A Temporary Truce

Paint peeled from the old, cracked ceiling that hung over my head. I stared it, briefly wondering where I was, before recognizing the familiar tiles. I mentally traced the pattern in my head, the same pattern I had always stared up into nights, when I was alive, when lay awake not sleeping.

I rolled over and glanced at the digital alarm clock that now occupied the bedside table. Technologies such as these were foreign to me, but I managed to figure out what time it was.

One thirty.

I sat up abruptly and found a dull ache in my side, once again reminding me of the past night's events. I momentarily blocked the memories out of my mind. Frantically, I looked around, searching everywhere for…

Jesse.

Where was he? This was his, room, right? What was he doing adventuring around somewhere else? Right now I needed to talk to him, needed to ask him what had happened last night. The last thing I remembered was a piece of wood sticking through my stomach like a stake…and blood, oh, lots of blood.

Now, don't take me for a…what do they call it nowadays? Oh yes. A wimp. I wasn't, by any means. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I don't get woozy from that much blood. Ghosts bleed, but they just heal faster than the living. I mean, judging from the fact that I only had a slight ache in my abdomen, I was pretty much healed. Still, a few blood stains on my shirt remained, but I was sure they would fade in a couple of hours.

I carefully got up off of the bed that I had been lying on and started pacing. By now, I had figured out that he was probably at school, but that didn't cure my case of uneasiness. I glanced over at the bed again, and my eyes widened.

The realization struck me. It was _his _bed I had been lying in! So…not a big deal, right? Well, it was for me, as a girl who had been born in the 1800s. I had barely been in a man's bedroom outside of my family, let alone on his _bed. _I mean, I was a lady! I didn't exactly go lying in men's beds all the time.

As I was thinking that, I also noticed something I hadn't before. Lying on the pillow next to where I had previously been lying was a blank white sheet of paper, folded neatly in half. I stared at it curiously and then made a move to open it. Unfolding it carefully, I saw a small, carefully written note lettered in black ink:

_Susannah-_

_I hope you have recovered from your wounds and are in better condition than you were last night. I'm at school, so I'll explain everything to you when I return home._

_Jesse_

I looked at the note, astonished. Despite my first impression of the guy, he seemed to actually be kind of…thoughtful. Besides, he had cared for me after I was hurt, even after I had been so rude to him. Maybe it was time to give him a second chance.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­The chance came around three o'clock, when he arrived home from school. I was sitting on the window seat, staring out at the ocean like I had done so many times before he had arrived. I turned when the door to his room opened, but he didn't seem to notice me at first. He walked in, his backpack slung over his shoulder, and kicked off his shoes, and dropped his backpack next to them. I finally cleared my throat to get his attention.

He glanced at me, and then looked surprised. "Susannah! I didn't see you there," he said. For some reason, he looked slightly embarrassed. I didn't say anything.

"So, it seems that you've recovered? I'm glad. You seemed to be in pretty bad shape last night," he continued, ignoring my silence.

I just looked at him. Why was he being so…nice? I had yelled at him, said that I could deal with Heather alone, and then fainted because of a few splinters. Okay, maybe slightly more than just a few splinters, but all the same, I had left him to deal with a murderous ghost all on his own. Wasn't he the least bit angry with me?

"Aren't you…upset?" I asked testily. Predictably, he looked surprised, once again.

"Upset? Why would I be upset? It wasn't your fault that you were stabbed the way you were, which caused you to pass out like that," he said.

"No, I mean about earlier. How I treated you. How I said that I would be the one to deal with Heather, when _you're _the mediator now. I guess I just wanted to be…I don't know…useful, I guess," I explained.

Jesse's face softened. "Its okay, _querida_. I know that you were just trying to help me out, but believe me, I am more than capable to handle ghosts, even ones as violent as Heather."

His words were kind, but although I had said that I would try harder to be friends with him, I didn't fully trust him.

"What does that mean?" I asked, more sharply than I had intended.

"What…what are you talking about?" he said. He sounded nervous.

"That word! What did you call me?" I knew he was trying to be nice, but I don't like being called stuff in Spanish. Especially when the words could be potential insults.

"I didn't call you anything," he said simply, but before I could ask him more, he took one of his books out of his backpack and began working on his homework.

I sighed inwardly. Fine. If he wasn't going to tell me anything, then I wasn't about to ask. But I really just wanted to know…

"Er…Jesse? What…what happened after I…you know, fainted. With Heather, I mean. Did she…um…do anything else to you?" Hey, I know, not my most articulate, but he could deal with that.

He looked up from the problem he was working on, and said plainly, "Don't worry, I had it under control. She won't be bothering us for awhile."

Seeing that this answer satisfied me, he went back to his homework. I once again stared out the window, but truthfully I was lonely. I wanted his company. I hadn't had anyone to talk to for 150 years, and when I _did _have the chance to have a conversation, he's sitting there doing his homework!

But…I had one more question nagging at me, so I decided to interrupt him for a second. I mean, was homework _that _important that he couldn't answer my questions? I hesitated for a second, unsure of whether it was alright to ask my question. Before I could change my mind, I blurted it out.

"Um, Jesse? I just wanted to know…_why _did you come down to help me with Heather? I mean, I can't die, that's for sure. So _why? _You knew she was dangerous, but you came anyway," I said in a rush. Surprisingly, he looked embarrassed, but I wondered why.

"Well…" he started, "you may be a ghost, but you are still a young girl. Or the spirit of a young girl. And I wasn't about to see you get beaten to a bloody pulp for doing nothing wrong in the first place." I stared at him, into his deep, dark eyes, and he stared right back. Our gazes locked, and I swear I saw something flicker on his face. He opened his mouth slightly, as if he were trying to tell me something, but the door to his room opened at that precise moment.

"Hey, JESSEEEE! Get your butt down here, its dinner! I've been callin' ya for like 10 minutes!" the girl shouted. His sister, who appeared to be around 13, whined to him unpleasantly while standing in the doorframe, her hands on her hips in a stern pose.

He quickly looked away from me and said to his sister, "No, you were _not _calling me, I would have heard you. But yes, I will be downstairs soon. Just wait a second, I have to finish this problem," he said, motioning to his half finished worksheet. His sister rolled her eyes but disappeared from the doorway.

Jesse seemed to be avoiding my gaze. His eyes still downcast, he cleared his throat.

"Well, I'd better be going. To eat dinner, I mean," he said. He glanced up at me quickly and then turned to head out the door. Once the door was closed firmly behind him, I let out my breath. Blowing a stray piece of hair out of my eyes, I wondered silently: what was THAT all about? That awkward silence, all of that tension between us. Just when I thought that we were on our way to becoming friends, too. Oh well, there was always tomorrow.

And considering the lack of excitement I'd had for the past 150, I had a feeling that last nights events were just a warm-up act for the real show.

_Hey, thanks so much for all your reviews! (they're really encouraging.) Sorry that this chapter wasn't the longest, but I'll update soon. And finally, I feel like the story is actually kind of getting started. The first few chapters were more of an...introduction. _

_So now that the story is on it's way, I need to put Paul in there, right? (I mean come on, you don't have a story without him). But I'm kind of stuck on how to put him into the story, so could you maybe give me some ideas? Thanks alot! _


	6. Could It Be Love?

_Hello once again! It's that time again. You know. The time to update. _

_Also, I'm sorry that I haven't had a chance to reply to all of your looovely reviews. I promise I will in the next chapter, though. In the meantime…I present to you chapter six!

* * *

_

A Neverending Story

Chapter Six-Could It Be Love?

Funny how after not having anything to do for 150 years, just a little excitement can get you hungry for more. I'm embarrassed to admit that I got kind of antsy while waiting for Jesse to finish his dinner; I even got up off the window seat and started pacing. Sheesh, how long could it take to eat a meal?

But when Jesse came back upstairs, looking kind of down, I decided to leave him alone. After all, he looked like he had had a rough day. He just nodded to me as if to give a greeting and then shut himself in the bathroom, the door clicking behind him. I sighed once again, disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm in tonight's adventures.

The next day I spent reading one of my favorite books, _Jane Eyre _by Charlotte Brontë_. (A/N I chose that book only because it's from her time period. I kind of doubt Suze would be reading something like _Harry Potter.) Down in the De Silva household, Mrs. De Silva, who was currently a stay-at-home mom, was looking for a new job. Her youngest child was now 7, old enough to be in elementary school, so I could tell that Mrs. De Silva was getting bored being in the house all the time. I thought her situation to be similar to mine. I spent some time watching her, and wished I could talk to her. I had a feeling that we could relate.

When Jesse didn't get home at his usual time, which was around 3:30, I was a little worried. Well, actually more like annoyed…annoyed at the fact that he probably had something to do in the afternoons, much unlike me. It was embarrassing to admit that I spent a large portion of the day just waiting for him, waiting for a guy who I had just met a few days before. It was only that I had no one else to talk to. Or that was what I kept telling myself. I think a part of me was drawn to him, in a way that I hadn't ever been drawn to anyone else. It was unexplainable.

I didn't understand it. And I wasn't sure that I was ready to.

When my curiosity finally got the better of me, I decided to go down to the mission to see what was holding him up. When I got there, it was empty, save for a few novices scattered around in prayer. Next, I checked the "Coffee Clutch," which seemed to be a popular place for the teenagers to hang out. Nearly all of the tables were occupied, and I was slightly taken aback with the young peoples' attire. I saw a group of kids wearing all black, their hair matching their dark ensembles. They were all looking murderously at another group of young girls wearing practically nothing but skirts that came down above mid-thigh and shirts that exposed much of their midriffs.

I know that fashion had changed since my time, but honestly, what were these people thinking when they had gotten dressed that morning, wearing clothes such as those? When I was alive, you could be sent to jail for wearing some of the things that they were wearing…or _weren't_ wearing, I should say. And I thought that _Jesse's _clothes were a little out of the ordinary.

Getting over my initial shock of seeing these kinds of outfits, I continued my search for Jesse. Just as I was about to give up hope and dematerialize, out of the corner of my eye I saw someone push back their chair and stand up. I quickly spun around and realized that it was Jesse, dressed in deep blue jeans and a plain brown t-shirt that fit him in all the right places. When I got a better look at him I saw that he was holding out his hand to a young girl whose face was turned away from me. I silently ducked down behind a table occupied by a couple who seemed to be sitting awfully close together. Peering out from behind a smooth, silver leg of the table, I was just in time to see the glass door clang shut with the tinkling sound of bells.

Not wanting to be too obvious, I slowly walked over to where the large glass windows were and peeked out, watching Jesse and the mystery girl cross that parking lot crammed full of beat-up old cars. I still couldn't see the girl's face but from the back she had blond hair that almost shined in the sunlight, but appeared as though it was fake. She walked confidently, her stride elegant yet a bit seductive, tilting her head back every once and a while to laugh dramatically at something Jesse.

I looked down and noticed her hand, clad with rings that reflected the sunlight like mirrors, clinging onto Jesse's arm almost possessively. When I saw her hand there, something inside of me snapped. I seethed with anger, my eyes forming slits as I glared at the girl with the plastic-looking blond hair. Who did she think she was, walking like that with _my _Jesse? And why did she have to—

Wait a second.

Did I just refer to Jesse as "mine?" I cringed. _'No, there is no way I can think about Jesse like that. He is alive. I am dead. That's the only thing to it.'_ I shook my head sadly, suddenly not being able to bear the sight of Jesse and another girl. My eyes welled up with pools of tears and I tried to blink them away, embarrassed. I never cry. I wasn't about to start crying over Jesse.

Turning my back on Jesse and the girl, I took one last glance at the coffee shop and started to dematerialize, but something stopped me.

Sitting alone at a booth to my far left was a boy, about my age, if not a little older. He had icy blue eyes and dark, wavy hair that curled crisply along the nape of his neck. He was quite good looking, but seemed unaware of the countless young girls who kept shooting rapid glances in his direction and then whispering to their friends. In one of his hands was a black coffee, resting on a simple white saucer, and in the other was a thick book that he had open, his thumb acting as a bookmark.

However, his eyes were not resting on the many girls who kept peeking out from behind their friends to catch a glimpse of him, nor were they on the bulky book he held in his hand. No, his eyes were focused on me, just staring his icy stare that I felt all the way down to my toes. Suddenly, I no longer felt like crying. Instead, I felt as though I was somewhere else altogether, not in the noisy atmosphere filled with bustling teenagers. The sound drained out of my ears and all I could focus on was his chilling blue stare that made me shiver all over. The way that he looked at me was daring, almost sinister, and I felt empty inside at the way he smirked slightly.

I couldn't stand it any longer. Doing what I felt was the best possible solution, I dematerialized. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately, whenever I got myself into a sticky situation, didn't I?

I materialized, but made myself invisible, where I was sure Jesse was, which was the back of the car that I saw him get in. It was silver, looking expensive and sleek, which contrasted greatly to the junky cars I had seen in the coffee shop's parking lot. There were firm, leather seats that lined that the backseat of the interior, and the top was open so that the car was a convertible. Jesse and the girl were stopped in front of his (and _my_) house, the girl sitting on the driver's side and him sitting in the passenger seat.

I sighed irritably, wishing I could speak to him freely and be rid of this pesky girl. I really needed to talk to him right then, mostly about the stranger in the café. I materialized just in time to hear the last few words of their conversation.

"…had a really good time with you tonight, Jesse," said the teenager in a voice I'd often heard girls use when they were talking to men. You know, the whiny, flirty one.

Finally, I could see her face from the front. She had blue-green, almond shaped eyes, a small nose, and a mouth set in a pout. With her slim frame and tan skin, I was sorry to admit that she was rather attractive, but something about her told me that I wouldn't want to be friends with her if I ever had the opportunity.

This feeling increased dramatically when she ran her finger up the center of Jesse's chest slowly and then leaned forward to whisper seductively, "How about you?"

Without waiting for a reply, she sort of lunged at him and pushed her lips against his, all the while making some sickening groaning sounds that I am sorry to say were meant to be of pleasure. It was disgusting to watch.

I just sat in the back seat, my mouth hanging open in a very unattractive matter, and gaped at them in pure shock. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Once again, I was enraged.

I made myself visible and sat there silently, glaring at them, hoping to break up their little party. When they didn't notice my subtle attempts, I leaned in closer, so close that I could smell the sickeningly sweet scent of the girl's perfume. God, you don't know how much I hated that girl right then, how much I wanted to pound her and her excessive amount of makeup back to where she came from. I looked up at Jesse to see at how he was reacting to this, but I'm disgusted to admit that he seemed to be enjoying the kiss. Not being able to take it any longer, I cleared my throat slightly.

Jesse's eyes snapped open and he abruptly pulled away from the girl, startled. He looked from her to me, surprised, and muttered, "_Nombre de Dios_." Instantly, a look of guilt passed over his features and he fully pulled away from the girl, who by now looked very confused, not to mention upset. Well, it serves her right—she should be upset knowing what I had in store for her.

I knew that I had a murderous look on my face. Now I wanted to be away from Jesse, which was the complete opposite of my feelings before. It was just that…_how _could he have done that? I thought he was far more of an honorable man than to go about kissing _things_ like _that_. Well, I didn't stick around to figure out the answer. Instead, I hoisted myself out of a sitting position, lifted my skirts up slightly, and roughly jumped over the side of the car, glad that it had no roof. I stumbled slightly when I hit the ground, but managed to stay upright. I know that I could have dematerialized, but jumping out of the car had seemed like a much more dramatic exit…at the time.

I heard Jesse say some things to his little "date," but I didn't stick around to hear what they were. Instead, I walked straight through the door, up the stairs, and sat defiantly on the window seat, waiting for Jesse to come up so that I could give him a good scolding.

It took him almost no time to mount the stairs, though I could hear his feet dragging as though he was regretting coming up in the first place. Immediately, he started in with his story.

"Susannah, I-" he began, but at once I cut him off.

"Jesse, what were you thinking, doing that with a girl you barely know? I thought you were brought up better than that! You're so-" Now it was his turn to cut me off. I know I sounded like his mother, but I was too infuriated to care.

"Susannah, I can explain. She came on to me! After school, she asked me to go down to the coffee shop so that I might meet some new people. You know, since I was new to this town. And that was all!" Jesse said sounding exasperated. He had a pleading look in his eyes, begging me to believe him. I wasn't fooled though.

"Sure, Jesse," I said sarcastically, "She came on to you. The same way she came on to you when she started kissing you like that? It was disgraceful!" I had calmed down a bit by this point, but my temper was still boiling, and any small thing would set me over the edge.

"I promise you, it wasn't like that!" he started, explaining.

"And you, kissing her back. So passionately. It makes me sick," I spat, careful not to look into his eyes. I knew that if I did, the tears that were glistening on the surface of my eyes were sure to fall, and I couldn't let him see that I was that close to crying.

I glanced up at Jesse, who looked guilty, and, to my surprise, hurt. He looked like he was going to say something, but then stopped himself. He opened his mouth once again and whispered, "_Querida_, I swear it wasn't like that. I admit, I got a little carried away, but she wouldn't stop! It wrong of me."

I looked up at him, tears cascading down my cheeks in waterfalls, blurring my vision ever so slightly. He took a step towards me and reached out his hand, his calloused thumb wiping away the tears that glistened on my cheeks. Our eyes met, and I was once again amazed at the hidden feeling behind the inky black surface. The contrast between Jesse's eyes and the penetrating blue eyes that belonged to the stranger I had seen earlier in the café was unnerving. The man's eyes were as light as Jesse's were dark.

I sniffed and then saw the concerned look on Jesse's face. In spite of myself, I gave a small laugh. Jesse looked surprised, but amused.

"And what is so funny, _querida?_" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, nothing. Just that you have a bit of lipstick smudged on your cheek," I giggled, and at the same time wiped it off. Jesse turned an even darker shade of crimson. Suddenly, I decided to forget about the other girl (though not _forgive_ her). I truly believed Jesse and his story…I mean, how could I not, with eyes as innocent as his? He seemed sincere. We stood there for a few more seconds, Jesse eventually joining in my laughter over the smudged lipstick on his cheek.

When we had stopped, Jesse shot me an accusing look and said, "By the way, _querida, _what were you doing in the back of Kelly's car anyway? Not spying, on me, I hope?"

Kelly. So _that's _what that little bitch—um, I mean _friend_ of Jesse's name was. Then realizing what he had asked, I turned a shade of red that matched what Jesse's was just a few seconds ago. So he _had_ noticed that I was following him.

"Of course not. I was simply…checking up on you. Because I didn't want you to be late for dinner. You know how your father gets about family meal time," I added, hoping to sound convincing. I mentally patted myself on the back in congratulations for the brilliant story I had come up with at the last second.

Jesse, however, looked down at his watch and, realizing the time, muttered, "Oh, shit!" He ran out of the room, desperately trying to make it to dinner in time, my laughter echoing after him.

I smiled to myself, amazed at my sudden mood change, but pleased nonetheless that Jesse and I were okay with each other again. I materialized at the beach, just in time to catch the sunset, and sat back to enjoy it.

The sky was painted with reds, oranges, fuchsias, and light pinks, blending together to form what I thought was a miracle of nature. The sun dipped below the horizon, and I thought again, for the millionth time, of my father, who had told me that if you looked real close, you could see the steam coming off from the sun crashing into the water when it went down. I know that the theory has been proven wrong since then, but the memory of me as a little girl, sitting on my father's lap as he told me the secrets of the sunset, had always set me at peace with nature, the world, and myself.

The sky turned dark until the sun was no longer visible. I could feel the water wash over my toes, a sign that high tide was coming. The moon was full that night, glowing brilliantly over my head. Because there were no clouds, I could see the stars clearly, though never again would I be able to see them as they had been when I had been alive, shining brighter, their glows unharmed by pollution and the lights that people used.

With an air of settling calmness about me, I materialized in Jesse's room again to say goodnight to him, but also to ask him about the stranger back in the café. I had planned on asking him about the situation before, but the right time had never seemed to come up.

I realized just how late it was when I discovered Jesse was already asleep, and a _deep_ sleep at that. He looked so peaceful; his breathing deep but soft.

I took two steps forward.

Every time he took a breath, his chest rose and fell in harmony to his breathing. His dark hair flopped down over one eye, standing out against smooth, clear skin.

I took another step forward so that I was nearly standing at the side of his bed.

The moonlight shone against his tan skin, silvery shadows playing under his closed eyes. His eyelashes, thick and long, looked dark against his cheeks.

I leaned over him slightly, so my hair cascaded lightly off of my shoulders. I brushed it back evenly and leaned over further yet.

His perfect features entranced me, sending shivers along the base of my spine. It was faultless, save for the thin scar that crossed through his left _(A?N: Or is it right?)_ eyebrow. It was like I was hypnotized, like some sort of magnetic force was pulling me towards him. I leaned forward even farther still until I was so close to him that I could feel his warm breath tickling my cheek.

I wasn't thinking straight. Or at least that's what I told myself later on. I felt like I was in some sort of trance. I was only acting upon my feelings.

I brought my hand to his cheek and lightly caressed the smooth skin. His breathing remained even, and I marveled at how warm his cheek was.

By this point, my lips were only inches from his. They looked so full, so soft and inviting. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity but then finally brought my lips gently down to his.

I kissed him tenderly, delicately so that I would be sure not to wake him. His smooth lips seemed to take away an ache that I had had in my heart for the past 150 years. I felt at peace while I was kissing him like this, but I had a strange desire for more—for him to kiss me back. The kiss wasn't passionate—it was simply tenderness and something that I dared not name.

Love.

I broke away quickly and gasped when I felt him stir beneath me. His eyelids fluttered open and he stared at me, disbelieving. He brought a callused finger to his lips and touched them, unsure of what had just happened. My eyes widened as I took three wary steps back, steps that were much faster than they had been when just a few minutes ago, I had been walking _towards_ his bed instead of away from it.

He just stared at me, finally whispering in an uncertain voice, "Susannah?" Frightened, I backed away even farther until I lightly bumped into a large wooden object. Not answering, I did what I thought was the best possible idea: dematerialized.

_

* * *

Whew, that took awhile to write! A lot happened in that chapter…we even met Paul! (Yes, that was Paul. I **hope **that you figured that out). Now you'll just have to wait and see how it all goes…_

_I know Jesse and Suze kissed earlier than in the books, but it just fits together better this way. _

_By the way…I hate cliffhangers too. Oh well. _


	7. Fire Time

_Hello again. Thank you so much to my reviewers! _

_Thanks to: Strawberry-Shortcake01, Bananana, Mrs. Nikki Slater, DARKrosePRINCESS, Ravenscall, smgirl, jessdarkwater, dragonfly, Ivory Nightshade, Aelitagurl, Monkey sox roc, Sunshine418, Querida23, Eternal Immortality _

A Neverending Story

Chapter Seven- Fire Time

An hour later, I sat on the rigid, wooden bench located in the courtyard of the mission. The wood was rough and hard, clearly not meant to be all that comfortable. But I didn't want to be comfortable. I didn't _deserve _to be comfortable. I felt so ashamed of myself.

For what, you ask? Well, first of all, I am a _ghost_. But I fell in love with someone who is _alive_. I suppose that wouldn't be all that bad…my only problem would be my unrequited love.

But then I had gone and KISSED HIM. This had complicated the situation a bit.

The kiss just kept playing over in my mind, again and again. I remembered how his lips felt on mine, so smooth and soft…

But I'm getting off track. What I need to be focusing on at the moment was what I could _do _to right the situation again.

Last night, at first I was sure Jesse had been awake. When he opened his eyes, he looked alert and attentive, but now that I look back on it, how could I be sure that he wasn't just sleep talking? I couldn't, really. _Maybe_, I thought, _he doesn't remember any of it. _

Though I hoped this, I doubted that it would be true. There was no doubt in my mind that Jesse had been completely awake, wondering what the hell I was doing. He probably was going to refuse to talk to me the next time he saw me, or at least be very weirded out by my strange actions. What was I thinking, kissing him like that? Was I hoping for him to like me? Well, I could say goodbye to that hopeful thought. There is no way that Jesse would ever go for someone like me…someone who is a ghost.

So why had I kissed him? The truth is, I don't know. I wanted to know what it would be like to feel, after all that time that I hadn't felt anything but loneliness. I wanted to experience something different from what I had been feeling for 150 years. But, most of all, I kissed Jesse because, as pathetic as it may seem, I love him.

The sky lightened, and soon people started to mill around the courtyard of the mission. I stared, not really seeing, at the fountain bubbling soothingly in the center of the terrace. My eyelids slowly started to get heavier, and I leaned my head back against the wood of the bench. Suddenly, it didn't seem so uncomfortable. In fact, I felt rather warm and relaxed, and letting go of my worries seemed like a wonderful idea at the moment. I took one last glance at the people standing around me and was soon in a deep sleep.

You see, ghosts can sleep, though they don't need to. The same goes for eating and drinking—but I rarely find occasion to do so. I had barely slept in all of my time being dead, but the few times that I did, I was completely exhausted. Today, however, my sleep wasn't from exhaustion, but more that I wanted to escape the thoughts that tormented me…the thoughts of Jesse.

* * *

My cat was constantly being called ugly. Either by the neighborhood boys, or even my own mother, he was frequently laughed at and teased. No one but me would even dare to look at Spike without cringing. The cat, I had to admit, _was_ repulsive—but somehow I found comfort in his shaggy, lopsided frame. Each morning, I woke up to his deafening purring. Some mornings, more often than most, Spike was actually on top of my head, stretched out over the pillows of my bed. 

This morning appeared to be no different than the rest. There was a furry, purring object near my head, rubbing against me, and the routine of it all made me smile in my sleep.

"Spike," I mumbled, "I'm glad to see you this morning." Spike stopped rubbing against me, and I wondered why. I opened my eyes to see what was wrong.

And I screamed.

The thing that was rubbing my head wasn't purring, nor was it furry at all. The thing---or hand, actually—belonged to none other than the man with the icy blue eyes that I had encountered yesterday. He looked someone surprised at my sudden outburst, but chose not to say anything. I stared at him in disbelief.

"Wha-what are you doing?" I demanded to know.

His astonishment soon turned to amusement as he smiled chillily at me.

"I believe that I was just giving you a head massage, but it appears that you thought I happened to be someone named Spike," he said bluntly. His voice was deep and smooth, and had a confident air to it. I stared, misbelieving, at him.

I blushed a shade of deep crimson at his comment. "Spike happens to be my cat," I stated, just to clarify things, "but that doesn't explain why you were _petting_ me."

He snorted. "A sense of humor. I like that in a woman." I glared at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere? Like in class, maybe? I take it you go to this school," I said, trying to sound as nonchalant and collected as he did.

"What, this place?" he gestured to the surroundings. "Well, I go to school here. But I don't exactly _go _here, if you know what I mean."

I continued to glare at him. Something about him, maybe his chilling demeanor, or maybe his unfazed behavior, disoriented me a little. I did not like this man one bit, and when I don't like someone, I see no point in treating them as if I do. That would a lie, wouldn't it? And who likes liars?

We stared at each other for a few moments. It was almost as though we were having a staring contest, and I didn't want to be the one to lose.

Eventually, I looked away, disappointed that I had to be the one to end it. His piercing blue eyes were too much to handle.

"Alright, spit it out. What do you want?" I asked rudely.

"Do I have to have a reason for wanting to have a chat with a beautiful girl?"

I was unfazed with his compliment. In fact, it only served to make me even madder. I was getting dangerously close to punching this guy in the nose. I tightened my hand into a fist.

"Look. I don't have time for this—" I started to draw back my arm, ready to smack him.

"Okay, okay, sheesh," he said holding out his hands at seeing my balled fist. "Actually, I came here to warn you." His blue eyes clouded over, and he looked towards the fountain again.

"Warn me about what?" I asked, suddenly curious, yet still a little cynical.

"About…Jesse. You know, your new roommate? He's dangerous. Don't trust him."

I snorted. "Do you really think I'm going to believe you? You, who I woke up to not five minutes ago, with your hand on my head? Yeah right."

"Look," he started, looking annoyed, "I know you're probably not going to believe me. But just consider it. He might seem to have all the looks, all the charm, but he's not what he seems. And between you and me, he's done some pretty bad stuff. So I'm just warning you."

"Oh, yeah, sure," I said sarcastically, "I'm sure he's done some _terrible _things."

"Just consider it," he said, his voice pleading. And with that, he _disappeared_, leaving me shocked and in awe.

Two thoughts were racing through my mind right then. What kind of bad things could Jesse possibly do to me, or had done in the past? This guy had to be crazy. But still I wondered….what was his connection to Jesse? Even if he had any idea of what he was talking about, why would he want to help me? It all comes down to this: I'm dead, he's alive. Even though he's a mediator (yes, I'd figured that out by then), why was he so set on protecting me? Helping me get to the other side, yes, but protecting me? What's the point in that? I really didn't have anything to lose by getting hurt.

Thought number two was something along the lines of "WHO IS THIS GUY?" I mean, he was clearly alive. After all, there was no spectral aura surrounding him that all ghosts had. If this was true, if he was alive, then how could he disappear like that? It was all so much to handle.

While I was pondering all this, I heard someone call my name. Knowing it could only be Jesse, I turned bright red. Why was I even at the Mission, where Jesse could find me with practically no effort? I was still definitely NOT ready to see him, after what happened. Just when I was about to dematerialize to avoid further conversation, I felt a rough, calloused hand grab onto my arm. I looked up, and saw Jesse holding on to me with an irritated, yet playful look on his face.

"Oh, no you don't," he said, smiling slightly, "Not this time."

I gave him what I hoped to be a very pleading and convincing look. "But, Jesse," I said in a sugary, innocent voice, "I have an appointment to play poker with some of the other dead folks _up there,_" I said sarcastically, while pointing towards the sky. I kept a straight face.

"Susannah," Jesse said sternly, "we need to talk."

I opened my mouth, but then closed it again, not sure of what to say. Suddenly, I heard giggling behind me. Jesse immediately released my arm.

"Jesse! I was wondering where you were, you silly, when you didn't call last night. You walked out so fast; I didn't know what was wrong!" Kelly, the girl from the night before, stood dangerously close to Jesse. I noticed that she had a group of girls positioned off to the side of her, pretending to be deep in conversation with each other but really clinging to every word that Jesse said.

"Better not stand too close to her, Jesse," I said sarcastically, referring to Kelly's near proximity, "Or you'll die from the toxic fumes of too much perfume." I knew that Kelly and her followers couldn't hear me, but Jesse could. He rolled his eyes at me.

"Or maybe it wouldn't be that bad if you died, too," I continued on, under my breath, ignoring his warnings, "then maybe we could haunt this planet together. It wouldn't be so bad, you know, having a companion. I get lonely sometimes," I rambled on, not making much sense. I was saying this all in a joking manner, but really, it was partially true. Not that I wanted Jesse to die, but that I got lonely sometimes.

Kelly was still looking up expectantly at Jesse, waiting for him to reply to her comment, but he wasn't looking at either me or her. Instead, his gaze was fixed on a small stone statue in one corner of the courtyard. He seemed to be staring at it, but not really seeing it, something that I realize I do quite often. I wondered what he was thinking about.

"Hello? Earth to Jesse?" Kelly waved a hand of perfectly manicured nails in front of Jesse's face. Immediatley he blinked and looked at her.

"Er…yeah. Uh, Kelly, if you'd excuse me, I have something to do," Jesse said, and then walked away, shooting a significant look, which I didn't know the meaning of, at me. I thought that maybe it meant that I was supposed to follow him, but frankly, I still didn't want to talk to him…at least not about "the kiss."

In fact, I really _did_ want to talk to him, but instead about the blue eyed stranger I kept thinking of. I had seen him two times already, yet I still didn't know his name. You'd think that I would have simply asked him his name, but the time never seemed to come up. I had been so wrapped up in what he was talking about that I forgot to ask him something as basic as his name. I sighed. The afterlife was really starting to get complicated.

I decided to follow Jesse, just for the fun of it. It's not like I had anything better to do. He seemed a little distraught when he had excused himself before from talking to Kelly.

I found him walking at a rather fast pace down one of the old hallways at the Mission, his hand running absently through his clean, crisp hair. He was deep in thought, so he didn't notice my presence.

He stopped in front of a worn, wooden door, and knocked lightly.

"Come on in," a muffled voice said from the other side of the door. Jesse carefully opened the door and nodded in acknowledgement at the woman sitting at a desk in the middle of the room. She had even, white teeth, and a clean business suit, causing me to believe that she was a secretary of some sort. She smiled when Jesse (and me, though she didn't notice my presence) entered the room.

"Why, hello, Mr. De Silva. Haven't seen you around here for awhile! You've been keeping out of trouble, I suppose?" the woman said in an attempt at conversation.

Jesse nodded again politely. "Yes, I have. Is Father Dominic in? I was hoping to have a word with him."

The secretary, still smiling, pointed towards another door on the left of her. "Yes, he is. Nice to see you, Mr. De Silva."

Jesse crossed the room and knocked again on a small wooden, door, which had the word "principal" printed across it in blocky, bold letters. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Of course, I followed him in. I have to admit that I have gotten pretty good at following people, so I know all of the tricks of the trade, one of which included staying invisible. In fact, I followed Jesse around without him noticing so often that one might even go as far as to consider me a _stalker_…but I prefer not to think about that.

Jesse sat down in what looked to be a comfortable chair across from an aging, blue eyed man. I recognized him at once to be the priest called Father Dominic, a fellow mediator. I wondered what Jesse had to talk to him about.

"Oh, hello, Jesse. How are you? How are things with…you know?" He seemed to be referring to Jesse's ghost life. Jesse sighed.

"Actually, Father, that's what I came to talk to you about," Jesse said, looking at his feet.

Father Dominic looked concerned at once. "Is it about Heather? I thought we had taken care of her, but she was a rather…angry ghost, wasn't she? Did she return? Or is it someone new?"

Jesse continued to stare at his feet. "Well, father, it's not about Heather, I assure you that I've taken care of her. No, it's nothing like that…nothing dangerous." He looked slightly nervous. Father Dominic peered out expectantly at Jesse from behind his spectacles.

"In any case," Jesse continued, "do you remember the ghost of a girl that I told you about awhile back? The one who sort of…lives in my room?" My breath, or what might be called the "ghost" of my breath, stopped short. I realized that Jesse had to be talking about me. The priest nodded, urging Jesse to go on, though didn't seem too pleased with the prospect of Jesse "living" with a girl ghost.

Jesse glanced back at Father Dominic, looking somewhat flustered. "You see," he said, "something…well…happened. Something that--"

Only Jesse didn't get to finish what he had been trying to say, because he was suddenly cut off by the earsplitting, deafening noise of a fire alarm. Both Father Dominic immediately put their hands to their ears, trying to desperately block out the piercing noise that cut through the serene peacefulness of the Mission like knives. Students came rushing out of their classrooms, yelling over the noise. Teachers were frantically trying to herd the students outside to a safety zone, in case there really was a fire. The students seemed to think it was all a fire drill to test their evacuation skills, but the teachers looked more worried. After all, no fire drill had been scheduled. No one could be sure, just then, if there was a real fire or not.

No one except for me. Because I had pulled the fire alarm, of course.

Hey, don't look at me like that. I wasn't trying to give anybody a heart attack; I just wanted to keep Jesse from telling the priest whatever he was about to tell him. And, judging by the look on Jesse's face at the time, what he was going to tell Father Dominic wasn't what I wanted to hear. So I panicked, alright? The fire alarm idea was the best I could come up with. Eventually, they would figure out that it was all a hoax and they would go back to their normal schedules. No biggie, right?

With my hands over my ears, I dematerialized. I don't know if ghosts can go deaf, but that fire alarm sure seemed like it was loud enough to cause such things. For a place that was built so long ago, it sure seemed to have a top notch fire safety system.

Anyway, I decided to take this opportunity to back to Jesse's room, since I would definitely be avoiding it when he actually got home from school and had the chance to talk to me. The afternoon sunlight poured in through the windows, seeping through the dusty blue curtains that didn't do much to keep to sun out. Clothes littered the floor and the bed was messy and unmade. The desk was covered with crumpled papers and eraser shavings, and the wastebasket was practically overflowing with trash. Jesse normally kept his room fairly clean, but today seemed to be an exception. I sighed, but walked over to his desk and picked up the shirt that was draped over the back of his chair. It didn't smell dirty, but it didn't smell clean, either. It had a scent that smelled familiarly like something I couldn't put my finger on…

Jesse. That's what it smelled like. He had a scent that I could probably recognize anywhere, a mixture of soap and something I couldn't put my finger on. It smelled like…well, it smelled like _Jesse_. A man's scent, clean and strong, one that varies for each individual. Each person has their own scent, a smell that sets them apart from the rest…

Tears started welling up in my eyes on that thought. It seemed to be silly to be crying over something as simple as a shirt, or the scent of a shirt, but nonetheless, there I was, bawling my eyes out. _That's the difference between Jesse and I, _I thought, tears silently escaping from my eyes. _He has a scent. But I don't. That's the difference. He's alive, and I am not. _

It would never work out between us, no matter how hard I prayed. Why did I have to fall in love with him? Why? He could never, ever love a ghost, no matter how hard I tried to make it happen. He would never return my feelings. And even if he did, what would I do when he grew up? I would be stuck in a sixteen year old girl's body, while he would continue to age. It would _never_ work out.

I continued to cry, my tears cascading down my cheeks and dropping onto my lap. I wiped my eyes on Jesse's shirt, careful not to get too much snot on it. (Even in my troubled state, I wasn't about to just be all gross.) I sunk to the floor, my skirt poofing up around me as I sat.

I sat that way for who knows how long, before I had a sickening sensation in my stomach, one that could only mean that someone besides me was in the room. Cautiously and slowly, I looked up, remembering to wipe my eyes to at least look somewhat presentable. I dragged my eyes up off the floor, onto a pair of shiny, black boots, and up even farther to a pair of tight fitting pants. My gaze climbed higher still as I looked over a pair of nicely toned, muscular arms, and finally my eyes met, once again, the iciest, bluest eyes I had ever seen.

"Crying over a shirt, now, are we?" the man said. I stared at him, at a loss for words, which always seemed to happen when I was around him. My mouth gaped open, and I felt a bit like a fish.

Finally, I was able to string a sentence together. "Who are you?"

His lips curled into a smile, and I held my breath, waiting for the answer I was longing to hear. He opened his mouth, licked his lips, and then—

"Paul. Paul Slater."

_So how do you like it? I tried to make it a little longer, but sadly, it didn't work. Ah, oh well. Please review :)_

_P.S...Oh yeah, I was just wondering. What do AU and OCC stand for? I feel a little stupid asking that, but I've been trying to figure that out, and...yeah._


	8. The Paul Slater Invasion

_All I can say is: I'm sorry for the 2 month wait. :( But finally, here's chapter eight. _

_Oh yeah, and here is a little exerp from chapter seven, in case you forgot what happened:_

**Finally, I was able to string a sentence together. "Who are you?" **

**His lips curled into a smile, and I held my breath, waiting for the answer I was longing to hear. He opened his mouth, licked his lips, and then—**

**"Paul. Paul Slater."**

A Neverending Story

Chapter Eight-The Paul Slater Invasion

The seconds ticked by as I stared at him, not knowing which to ask of the many questions I had. Now that this man—Paul Slater, I suppose, was his name—was actually here, standing right there in front of me with his arms folded across his chest, I was having a rather hard time remembering any of the questions I had thought up for him before, much less actually speaking them aloud.

He waited patiently, obviously expecting some sort of a response. I knotted Jesse's shirt in my hands, nervousness taking over. Finally, after what seemed like much more than just an awkward silence, I spoke.

"How…how'd you do that?" I asked unintelligently, digging up the first question I could think of. Probably the stupidest one, too.

Paul looked just a little surprised at my choice of inquiries, like he didn't expect that sort of question, but quickly recovered. He looked confused, but not as though I had caught him off guard. No, I don't think I could ever accomplish such a thing. Catching Paul off guard, I mean.

"How did I do what?" he said, his eyes blinking blankly.

"You know…just showing up like that. You did it before, too, when you were leaving this morning. It was like dematerializing, but…you're not a ghost, so that wouldn't be possible. Unless…" I trailed off when I heard him chuckling. He had an un-humorous laugh, almost as though he found nothing funny but chose to laugh just for the sake of intimidation.

"That's the only question you have for me? How I _dematerialized_?" he said incredulously, voicing what I had been thinking just seconds before, "And to think, I thought you had maybe a _little_ but more--"

"Listen, _Paul_, I don't want to hear it. Just answer my question: _how did you do that?_" This guy was, once again, making me very angry. I do not like to be made fun of, as I have probably made very clear by now, and I _especially_ do not like being made fun of by people such as _Paul Slater, _people who I'm pretty sure I hate.

Hearing the dislike and annoyance in my voice made Paul back of a little. "No, I am not a ghost and never have been, if that's what you're asking. I'm a shifter. And as for the whole thing with the dematerialization—"

"Wait a second, Paul," I said, standing up. I didn't bother to smooth out my skirts because I was so curious about what he was saying. "Back up a few words. You said…you said you're not a ghost and _never had been. _What was that supposed to mean? Were you implying that it's possible to be a ghost and suddenly…not be, anymore?" By this point, we were standing just a foot or so apart, but I didn't even mind. Did he mean what I thought he did? So maybe my imagination was running more than a little wild, but still, I wondered.

An unreadable expression crossed his face as he took a menacing step towards me. "What for, little Suzie? Why would you wanna know a thing like that?" His breath was even and calm, whereas mine was ragged and frightened. But I would never let Paul know that I was even the tiniest bit scared of him. I would rather die.

But hey, that doesn't count for much, since I'm already dead.

He kept walking towards me unhurriedly. I was paralyzed with fear. I did the only thing I could think of. I put out my leg, hoping for the old "trip-and-fall-flat-on-your-back" scenario. But he was ready for that one, too. He grabbed my leg, though hidden by excessive amounts of fabric from my skirt, and spun me around, knocking me over and pinning me on the bed, facedown. I was actually kind of happy that the bed had been there, because if it hadn't, then I would be knocked down to the floor, which would put me in an even more awkward position and cause much more pain. My arm was pinned behind my back quite painfully, and I gritted my teeth to prevent myself from screaming.

I felt the mattress groan under something, or someone's weight. I could only suspect that to be Paul. I felt him walk over, on his knees, to where I was lying on the bed, all the while holding down my arm. He quickly turned me over, still holding my arms, though above my head. I thought I had pretty good reflexes, but clearly I was no match for Paul Slater. No matter how much I squirmed around, I couldn't get out of the death grip he had on my wrists.

Much to my surprise, I felt him put one leg on either sides of my waist, sort of strattling me. My mouth gaped open in horror. What did he think he was doing?

"Now, that wasn't very nice," he said, putting on an expression of mock disappointment.

I made a motion to spit in his eye, but my mouth was too dry. Instead, I settled for, "You slimy bastard, get off of me right now! If you don't, I swear I'll—" I was cut off when suddenly Paul put a finger to my lips.

"Shhh," he said, dragging his finger down my chin and across my neck, stopping to rest right where the fabric of my shirt began. He still had my arms pinned above my head, though only with one hand now. Still, his grip could not be loosened.

His finger was cold, and I shivered. I felt different, confusion laced with another emotion I could not place, as if I wanted him to do that again. At the same time, I knew that he was dangerous and unpredictable, and in that case, I _really _wanted him to get off of me.

He leaned down, closer to my face, which was frozen in shock, and said in a whisper, "You know, Suze, you could easily be mine. Nothing's stopping you."

I didn't reply, but rather just blinked. I opened my mouth, but as soon as I was about to say something, he closed the rest of the distance between us and gave me a light kiss on my frozen lips.

"Just think about it," he said, and dematerialized.

I laid on the bed on my back, my arms still above my head, breathing heavily. There was no denying it; I was scared of this guy. He seemed to have power, power I could only dream of, and power that could most definitely be used for evil instead of good. And, knowing Paul, evil was just what he had in mind. I wasn't scared for myself; no, I didn't have much to be scared for; but I was scared for _Jesse._ I was sure that Paul had some sort of a grudge against Jesse, and the grudge could easily turn into hatred. I vowed that I would protect Jesse against him no matter what—it would be my new purpose. If Jesse couldn't love a ghost, then I could at least protect him with everything I had.

Weeks went by, with no sign of Paul again, but most definitely signs of Jesse. I had resolved that I would not talk to him, or make any contact with him, for the better of the both of us. He went to school, came home, hung out with his friends, slept. I watched him all the time, growing more and more fond of him, yearning for him, wishing that he could be mine. But I was just an obstacle in his path, just another problem for him, so I chose to watch him from afar. I dutifully kept watch for Paul, but he never seemed to appear. I thought that maybe he had all just made it up, or that he wasn't actually going to do anything to Jesse. Still, I didn't let my guard down.

Then one rainy in October, the day of Halloween, something seemed to go wrong. It was late in the night, around ten o'clock, and kids were dressed up in costumes, roaming the neighborhood and asking for treats, a tradition that I had never fully understood. Usually Jesse was home by now, but occasionally he stayed out late, so I wasn't too worried about that. But as the hour dragged on, I got a worse and worse feeling in my stomach, and I knew something had to be wrong. I thought to where Jesse could possibly be, but no places jumped out in my mind. I briefly wondered if he was with that girl Kelly again, but banished the thought from my mind a second later. I would not think of that.

Suddenly I remembered a conversation I had heard when I was spying… I mean, keeping an eye on Jesse. He had been talking to his friend, Adam somebody, about some sort of party at a fellow classmate's house. He hadn't been sure of whether to go or not, but an unsure hint was better than none, so I decided to search for him there. I looked at few houses I had seen him go into with his friends in the afternoons, and finally came across a driveway filled with many cars parked crookedly in every direction. Cars continued down the street and onto the neighbor's driveways, beer cans and trash littered the front yard. People milled around in the grass, wobbling slightly on their feet or even completely passed out. I wondered if this place was really fit for someone like Jesse.

I checked inside the house, everywhere from the basement to the upstairs, where I saw some things I'd rather not have seen. Couples were what they called "making out," dancing to the loudest music I have ever heard, and drinking alcohol from small plastic cups. I wondered if these children's parents knew what was going on here.

I was just about to give up when I noticed something particular going on around the back porch area. The glass door was shattered, and bits of glass were everywhere, glittering dangerously in the dim light of the room. The funny thing was, not many people seemed to be fazed by it.

However, when I stepped outside, people were standing, wide-eyed, in a small semi-circle around something that looked remotely like a hot tub.

"…just started being each other up up. Broke the door, too."

"Think he's gonna be alright?"

"Yeah, they both look ok I'm more worried about the hot tub."

"Dude…"

I heard snatches of conversation. Curious, I stepped forward, right through the crowd of people. What I saw was unbelievable, but somehow expected.

Jesse, of course.

And boy, did he look bad. He was out cold, and he looked like he had been beaten unconscious. Scratches and bruises dotted his hairline; he had two black eyes _and _a nose that looked like it was broken. His shirt was torn, dirty, and somehow wet, which I suspected had something to do with the hot tub. Worst of all was a giant gash slashed on his left cheek that faintly resembled an X. Blood trickled down his chin and splattered onto the floor where he was lying.

My first thought was that I hoped he was alright. My second was that I hope this hadn't ruined his perfect features.

Angry at the people for not helping him, I lifted my skirts to prevent tripping and ran towards him in concern. With no other thoughts, I held on to his arm and shifted to the shadowland.

For some reason, I knew his spirit would be there. Sure, his wounds were terrible, but I thought that it would take even more to knock him out. I suspected that he had shifted to shadowland right before he had been knocked out, but the reason behind it I wasn't sure of. All I knew was that I was going to be very angry at the person who had done this to him, and I had a good idea of who a possible suspect would be: Paul Slater, of course.

Sure enough, when I caught sight of the familiar gray, cloudy hallways, I immediately pushed away any fearful thoughts threatening to sneak in and began hurriedly searching for Jesse and, most likely, Paul. My "breath" seemed loud and disrupting compared to the silence of the place, so I stopped breathing, knowing that it wouldn't make a difference anyway.

Doors lined the eerie halls and fog prevented me from seeing past more than 20 feet in front of me. I picked up my pace, calling out Jesse's name, but saw no sign of anyone being there. I broke into a run, panicking now, and hoping that Jesse was alright. It had been my job to protect him, and I had failed. I had to save him now, before it was too late! Before he was lost forever…lost like I was.

Abruptly, I stopped. In the distance somewhere, I heard muffled voices.

All I could see was fog, but I could distinctly hear two male voices shouting at each other, clearly not trying to keep the noise level down at all. I approached them slowly, careful not to make any noise, though I doubt that it mattered. They sounded like they were too into their argument to pay any attention to me.

I crouched down, waiting, when I was near enough to make their words out.

"…but why did you come back, Paul? You were gone for four years. Four whole years! Do you think you can just walk back into everyone's life, make them forget what you did?" It was Jesse. And judging from his tone of voice, he wasn't going to calm down any time soon.

"I told you why. And I also apologized for whatever I did. Happy?" Paul snapped.

"No, I'm not happy. You think an apology will do it for you? You frickin' left your mother to die! From what it looked like, you were the one who killed her. You ran, Paul. And that's why I'll never forgive you. She would have had the chance to live, and you didn't give her that chance. You didn't give it to her!" At the end of this sentence, Jesse's voice got considerably louder and more filled with pent up emotion.

Silence followed his speech. I shifted my position of crouching on the floor. My leg was starting to cramp up.

Jesse cleared his throat. It seemed as though Paul wasn't going to give him an answer anytime soon. He started back on his original question.

"I'm going to ask you again," he said quietly, almost in a whisper, "What are you doing in Carmel?"

It heard footsteps, but if they belonged to Jesse or Paul I could only wonder at. Paul started in on his sentence in almost as quiet of a voice as Jesse's, but no where near as angry.

"I came for the girl," he said menacingly.

"Girl?" Jesse asked, confused, "what girl?"

Paul's voice was a little louder this time. "The ghost. She is quite fond of you, I believe." My heart rate sped up, and I craned my neck to hear more.

"Susannah?" Jesse asked incredulously, "what does she have to do with anything? You…you haven't hurt her, have you?"

Paul laughed. "Naw, I haven't. Not yet, at least. But judging by your response just now…it seems as though…you appear to be _worried_ about her! Well, well, well, look what we have here. Ghost and mediator. Not the ideal relationship, I suppose. But I guess you could do it with her any time of day, without anyone notic--"

Suddenly, I heard a loud thud echoing through the halls. It sounded like someone had been thrown across the floor, and I could only suspect it was Mr. Slater over there.

"DON'T YOU EVER TALK ABOUT SUSANNAH IN THAT WAY!" I heard Jesse roar. Not being able to hold back anymore, I stepped out of the fog and ran towards Jesse and Paul. Paul was knocked to the floor and had blood running down the side of his mouth while Jesse, hardly being able to restrain himself, looked like he was about to finish Paul off.

"Jesse!" I shouted. He turned to look at me, alarmed.

"_Querida_. We must go now. It is dangerous for you to be up here, not when you are a ghost. You have a chance of never being able to get back." His voice had softened considerably, seeing as he had just been shouting at Paul a few seconds ago.

"But what about _him_?" I said, pointing towards Paul Slater.

"He can get back down on his own. He deserves what he got," Jesse added, looking like he very much wanted to spit on Paul right then.

"Looks like you did a pretty good job on him," I commented, looking down at Paul's groaning body. His nose was bent oddly out of shape, but I knew that since we were in shadowland, his injuries wouldn't last.

Jesse held out his hand and led me to the end of the hall, where we both shifted back to the present time.

Jesse looked just as badly beaten up as before. His eyelids fluttered open, and the people standing around him looked visibly relieved to see him conscious. He sat up slowly and let out a groan of pain.

"You alright, man?" said one of the guys standing around the hot tub.

"Yeah, you need an ambulance or something? 'Cause we can't do that here, man, sorry. No cops, you know?" said another teenager, looking somewhat concerned.

Jesse nodded and slowly got to his feet. "I'm okay," he said, "just a little banged up."

"Ok, well…you mind leaving then?" said the first guy, "Cause you're seriously crashing this party."

Jesse nodded once again and slowly walked away, one hand clenched tightly in a fist the other holding his head up. I walked alongside him, and once we were out of eyesight, I offered him my support, which he gladly took. He smiled down at me knowingly, and I smiled back.

Somehow Jesse managed to drive his car home, sneak up the stairs, and collapse into bed, all undetected, but of course with my help. He didn't say a word the whole way but held onto my arm so tightly that I felt like it was going to fall off. Still, I felt pride in that he could trust me to help him.

I spent the night, like always, watching him from my seat at the windowsill. The dark bruises under his eyes cast eerie shadows on his face, and it wasn't the handsome face I remembered. Still, it was the face that I loved. I didn't care what Jesse looked like, as long as I was with him.

_Love it? Hate it?_

_I finally got this chapter up. I had absolutley no ideas for this story for awhile, but now I've got the ending all planned out, so expect regular updates from now on:) Please review, as always._


	9. First aid and Finally Answers

_Heyyy guys._

_Chapter nine was up pretty quick, I guess. Quicker than the last one, at least. This chapter is actually pretty boring, so sorry, but I needed to explain some things. Next chapter is when there's some action. :D Read now._

_A Neverending Story_

Chapter Nine-First Aid and Finally Answers

The next morning was near chaos in the de Silva household. His sisters hollered, laughed, and howled, yet Jesse slept on. Because it was a weekend, many people came and went to the house, but still Jesse lay in his bed, solid as a rock, save for a few tosses and turns. Once or twice, he looked so still that I had to double-check to see if he was breathing.

I was downstairs, just watching all of the excitement unravel around me, when I heard Mrs. De Silva yell from the dining room, "Savannah, could you check on Jesse for me? I'm a little busy in here. It's already 12 o'clock, and I know how you teenagers like to sleep, but really, this is getting ridiculous."

"Mo-om," Savannah called back, rolling her eyes. She said the word like it was two syllables. On this particular morning, she was sitting at the kitchen table with one of her friends her age, which was about sixteen, reading something called 'Teen People'. "I have a friend over!" she whined, and looked over at this friend across the table, who looked pleadingly back at her.

"Well, _I _wouldn't mind waking him up!" her friend whispered to her, "If you haven't noticed, Sav, your brother is totally hot." Savannah stuck her tongue out and made a strange face, one that suggested mild disgust.

"Can you make Josefina do it?" she asked, despite her friends request. I could hear Mrs. De Silva let out a gusty sigh

Josefina, who was no doubt at the opposite end of the house, somehow managed to hear her name mentioned. She was an energetic young girl at age six, always running around the house to stir up some sort of trouble.

"Mooooommy! I'll do it! Can I jump on Jesse's bed, can I?" Josefina said, practically bobbing up and down on the spot.

"Now Josefina, you know that Jesse, or anyone, really, doesn't like to wake up to a little girl jumping on their bed. You can wake him up, yes, but do it gently, please," Mrs. De Silva said, but Josefina was already halfway up the stairs. Apparently, waking up Jesse was a fun activity for her.

I followed her up the stairs, knowing that I could do nothing to prevent Jesse's wounds, and eventually, story, from being exposed. I had tried to help Jesse as best I could, but now what he needed was a little compassion and a lot of rest. Last night I had bandaged up his most threatening wounds, but I hoped that none of them were too serious for even my extensive first aid to handle.

At the moment, the only trouble was finding a good enough explanation for his injuries without telling the actual truth to his family. For some reason, I seriously doubted that Mrs. De Silva or any of Jesse's sisters would believe that he had been beaten up by a crazy man, Paul Slater, while roaming around in what we mediators refer to as Shadowland. No, I don't think that would go over too well with good old Mrs. D.S.

Josefina reached the top of the stairs and skipped down the hall towards Jesse's bedroom, a grin wide on her face. As she stepped into Jesse's bedroom, her face changed from delight to absolute shock. Apparently, Jesse's bandages made him look ever more frightening than he had without them. Seeing her brother in such a damaged state made tears pour down the poor little girl's face.

At first, she was silent. She backed away from Jesse's bed cautiously, but then something seemed to make her change her mind. Carefully, Josefina approached her brother's bed and took his hand.

"Jesse?" she said, her voice in a whisper. Her hand looked small and frail against Jesse's larger one.

I didn't think Jesse would open his eyes, but he did. At first he didn't seem to recognize his younger sister, but soon his eyesight slid into focus. He tried to smile, but his grin quickly turned into a grimace.

"What happened, brudder?" Josefina asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I…I just had an accident," Jesse said, trying to calm down his sister. With the hand that wasn't scraped and bruised, he wiped away her tears. "Could you get mom for me?"

Josefina nodded and hopped off the bed, still running, but for a different purpose now. I chose that time to step out of the shadows.

"You're awake," I said to Jesse quietly.

Jesse attempted to nod, but only could manage a slight shake of his head.

"And you need some better first aid," I said, rushing over to his side. He looked pained, and it hurt me to see him in that condition.

"No, I don't," Jesse said, "You did a great job on it." For some reason, I blushed. Even in his weakened condition, he was still the sweetest guy I knew.

"Do you need anything? I could get you something to drink, or--"

Jesse shook his head. "No, I think that my mother would find it a bit suspicious to have a drink floating up the stairs. Thank you, but I'm fine." Seeing that I wasn't satisfied with this answer, Jesse tried to convince me of it. "Really, I'm fine," he said, "It looks a lot worse than it actually is."

"But what are you going to tell your family?" I asked, concerned.

"Oh, I'll think of something. It's not that unusual for me to be beaten up, you know. Ghosts can get pretty wild," he added, but looked like he regretted saying that last part. After all, I was a ghost.

I chose not to acknowledge his comment, but it still made an impression on me.

Mrs. De Silva chose that moment to come into Jesse's room, carrying a basket full of laundry in one arm and a pile of magazines in another. Upon seeing Jesse, she nearly dropped her newly washed clothes.

"Jesse! Good heavens, what did you do to yourself! Not another fight, I hope!" she came over to his bedside and started to examine his wounds.

"Mom, I'm ok, I swear. Just an accident," he said, flinching from her touch.

"You are not okay! Look at yourself! When will you learn that fighting isn't the answer?" her words were harsh, but really, she was just looking out for his best interests.

"It wasn't a fight…it was…" Jesse appeared to be at a loss for words.

"Yes?" Mrs. De Silva pressed, but without waiting for an answer, said, "Well, at least the bandaging is done well. Do you need anything?" It seemed as though this was all familiar to her: the injuries, the bandages, the lies. Jesse shook his head no.

"I'm ok," he said, and she seemed to accept this answer, "I just need some rest. Good thing it's a Sunday." Mrs. De Silva nodded, pulled the covers up around Jesse's shoulders like he was a young child, and left him to rest.

Upon hearing the door click shut, I got up off the window seat and sat down on Jesse's bed.

"That was easy," I commented. He didn't say anything right away, but just stared at me.

I wondered what he was thinking, but chose that time to let him get some rest. I voiced my thoughts, but he just kept looking at me.

"Aren't you going to ask me anything?" he asked suspiciously.

"Er…well, no. Um, what did you have in mind?" I wondered, worried that I had forgotten something important.

"Oh, never mind," he said settling back into his pillows. He turned away from me and pretended to try to sleep. I materialized on the other side of him, so that he was facing me once more.

"You're not getting off that easy!" I said. Too late, I realized that my face was extremely close to his. I quickly drew back.

In close to a whisper, Jesse said, "I was just wondering why you weren't immediately asking me questions. I mean usually, you're completely nosy." I made a face to let him know that I took that comment as a joke, but I wasn't sure if that was what he was originally going to say. Even so, I let it slide.

"Of course I have questions," I said defiantly, "I just didn't want to ask them because you're hurt."

"Oh, isn't that just so kind of you," he said, smiling now. I got the feeling that he was mocking me.

"Ok, you asked for it. First of all, what exactly is your connection to Paul Slater? What were you talking about, how he disappeared? And his mother? I just don't understand. How do _I _even fit into all of this? What does he want with me?" The questions all tumbled out in a shower of words.

"Whoa, no fair. First I'm going to ask you a question…what…how much of our conversation did you hear?" Jesse looked a little nervous for a second.

"Um…let's see…I remember you yelling at him for something, but you were doing that the whole time. You said, 'You can't just show up after four years!'" After hearing this, Jesse looked visibly relieved.

I looked at him cynically. "What, did you say something you didn't want me to hear before that?"

"Oh, no, not at all. So…anyway, about Paul. You see, he used to be my…friend, you could say. Yeah, we were really good friends from the time we started third grade to just about four years ago, when he suddenly left, leaving a giant mess behind him."

"Why?" I said, "What did he do to you?"

"Oh, not to me, specifically. To everyone. I say this casually, but it was suspected that he killed his own mother, though I don't believe that theory. I didn't know his mother; she wasn't around enough for me to get to know her well. But she wasn't a bad _woman_, just bad mother. Paul's family was very rich, and his father worked constantly, the president of a giant company, that sort of thing.

"His mother was out with her country club friends partying day and night, so his home life wasn't what I'd call a paradise. It was really hard for him, but he didn't let on. No, he wasn't like that. He would just keep it bottled up inside him and act cool around all the other kids, never letting them know what a screwed up life he had at home." Jesse paused to catch his breath. He looked sad; almost as thought it hurt him to reminisce over his former friend.

"So then what happened? With his mother, I mean," I said, eager to hear more.

"Well, one night I got a call from the police, wanting to know if I had seen Paul anywhere. See, they knew I was his friend. Everyone did. But I hadn't seen him, and that's when they told me they had found Mrs. Slater murdered in her own house, and Paul was missing. I still don't think that Paul would do that, but the evidence pointed directly towards him. And I haven't seen him since. Well, until tonight, that is." He stopped talking and looked at me, letting the words sink in.

"Wow. That's some story…" I said, awed, "but why do you think he's back?"

"Well, you heard him last night."

"What exactly did he say?" I asked, forgetting the details.

"He said that he was back for..for you." Jesse tore his gaze from mine, desperate to look anywhere but at me.

"I don't understand why, though," I said, frustrated.

"Neither do I, _querida_," Jesse said. That word again. I briefly wondered what it meant yet again, but decided to stay on topic.

"So…what do we do now?" I asked after a minute of two.

"Now, we wait," Jesse said.

I sighed. "I'm sick of waiting. I've been waiting for 150 years too long. Now, I just want answers." I put my head in my hands.

What Jesse did next both surprised and shocked me. I couldn't be sure, but I thought that I felt his hand come down to my head and start to stroke my hair. I froze, not sure if what was happening was real, and if it was, how I should react to it.

"Don't worry. You won't wait forever, and you won't wait alone," he whispered into my ear. At this point, my heart rate was nearly double its usual speed.

"Now I have a question for you, _querida._" I remained silent. I didn't dare speak for fear that he would reconsider his next words.

"What," he started, playing with a strand of my hair, "caused you to leave for such a long time?" Now I was really in a bind. If I didn't answer, he would know that I loved him. If I answered, he would know that I loved him. There was no way out.

So I used the good ol' play dumb approach. "What…what do you mean?"

Jesse gave a small laugh which reverberated through my body. "You know what I mean."

Finally, I looked up at him. He dropped his hand back to his side and stared back at me, those piercing brown eyes of his filled with an emotion I couldn't identify. I could see now that though he had sounded playful, he actually was bothered by my response. I didn't know what to say.

"That…that _kiss_," Jesse finally said, pulling both of our thoughts right into the open. He sounded as though he had wanted to ask that for a long time, but never had the occasion to do so. Now that he had identified that the kiss had actually happened, it seemed to bridge a gap between us that had been open for a long time.

I paused, still not sure of what to say. Then, without meaning to, I blurted out, "It…it was a mistake." I was lying. It hadn't been a mistake at all, not for me.

"A…mistake," Jesse repeated. It was a statement, not a question. His eyes were blank and unreadable.

I nodded. "Yes," I said, hating myself more and more every minute, "a mistake." I wished that I could bite back my words, but I knew I had to say them for Jesse's sake, for _my _sake. Not saying them told Jesse that it had all been my intentions, that I had meant to kiss him the way I did. Of course, I had meant everything about it, but I couldn't let Jesse know that. If he knew, he would only reject me. It all boiled down to one thing: he was alive, and I was dead. It could never work out. However, repeating this to myself had yet to convince me of that fact.

Since he was Jesse, he would let my down easy, but it wouldn't shield all the pain I had yet to feel from a broken heart. If I just kept going on as I was now, pretending that I didn't love him, then my heart just might remain whole. In my opinion, lying to myself was better than rejection.

I thought I saw disappointment flicker in Jesse's eyes, but I couldn't be sure. Yes, I knew that he liked me, maybe even more than a friend, but by now, I had made it clear that we couldn't be together. He had to understand.

"Ok," Jesse said simply, "If that's what you want." I wanted to shout at him, to tell him that that wasn't what I _wanted_; it was what we both _needed_. Instead I only nodded.

I realized that by now, he was aware that I had feelings for him, a fact that I had been trying to hide for so long. However, he would never directly ask me if it was true. This caused me to believe that he didn't love me the way I loved him. He was scared that he would hurt me when the time came to tell me that my love was sadly unrequited. Familiar tears welled up in the corner of my eyes, and I hung my head to conceal my sadness.

Jesse lay back on the many pillows I had placed out for him the night before, looking distressed and defeated. I walked over to him again, not being able to let him feel so upset.

"Would you like me to…to read to you?" I asked, not sure of where that suggestion had come from.

Jesse also looked slightly surprised to hear it, but nodded. "Yes, Susannah, that would be nice."

I picked up one of the many books placed neatly on his bookshelf, not caring much which one it was, and began reading. It was an upbeat book, hardly seeming to fit the mood that I had mistakenly created by bringing up topics that had once been deemed taboo.

If love has to be so painful, I thought, why love at all?

_Hm...well that ended ona sad note. I hope you don't hate me too much for making Suze say that kissing Jesse was a mistake. You know they'll end up together in the end :D _

_Next chapter! Suze meets Father Dom. Things get twisted. _


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